


Fourteen Days [ABANDONED]

by little_freckled_fricker



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe -Shingeki No Kyojin, Battle Royale AU, Multi, everyone dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2296208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_freckled_fricker/pseuds/little_freckled_fricker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>35 students are thrown into a battle-to-the-death. The last one standing wins, but will morals and bonds of friendship get in the way?</p><p>[9/9/17: I'm not going to finish this, it's abandoned. The rest of the plot is in chapter 3 if you're interested.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 0

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, hello! I'm a little nervous about posting this but here goes! Also, the thing Thomas calls the instructor is pronounced "Sair". Thank you!

**Day Zero**

“Now you know the whole drill. Have fun, kids!”

            35 students sat in an orderly group, seven rows, with five students in each, all in stunned silence. The lights were all out; the only light source was a large television, which had just finished an instructional video instructing the children to kill each other, until there was only one standing.

Wait, what? Kill each other? Until the last one standing?

            “This is bullshit!” A tall, blond-haired fellow in the center of the fifth row whispered angrily to the small, black-haired girl next to him. While the outburst was meant to be hushed, unheard, even muted, the utteration rang out through the silent room, catching the horrified attention of everyone present. This included the instructor near the television, and their heavily armed guard friends.

            “What was that?” The instructor’s cold voice seemed calm. “Seemed” is the word that should be stressed here. They _seemed_ calm. They also _seemed_ cold and calculating. They were all of these things, of course.

            “You there, boy,” the instructor pointed toward the blond fellow, who was now quaking; much more nervous than he had been a second ago.

            “Yes, you. Boy. Stand up.” The fellow stood. “What is your name?” The response was barely heard; this fellow was much less high and mighty, with the instructor staring him down.

            “Speak up boy! What is your name?”

            “W-Wagner, ser. T-Thomas Wagner.”

            “Alright then, Thomas…” The instructor began to walk in front of the giant screen, which stretched floor to ceiling (as most televisions should),  until the had reached the other side, where a heavily armed guard stood, observing, watching, waiting. “Come down here.”

            “Ser?” The fellow, Thomas, broke out into a cold, justifiably nervous sweat.

            “You heard me. Come down here. That is an order.” The instructor was louder now. They meant business, naturally, and were not about to take ‘no’ for an answer. Typical.

            Thomas began his march, past the two students on his left, down the aisle, finally standing uncomfortably near the instructor.

“Now, students,“ the instructor announced, “ _This_ is what happens if any others have the bright idea to speak out in my class." They gestured to the table next to them, with its top illuminated by the screen, where an odd, circular _thing_ sat.

“This,” they said, picking up the _thing_ , “Is a state-of-the-art radio-controlled shock collar. With a press of my handy-dandy radio button, I can make this release 7000 volts of electricity into whoever is wearing one, from wherever I am. Or wherever _you_ are.” The room stiffened. Students sat, quaking in their shoes. 7000 volts?!

“And,” the instructor turned the collar in their hand disinterestedly, “If anyone even _tries_ to take one of these off,” they chuckled darkly, “I don’t even _need_ to press the button myself. The self-destruct will go into effect, which will not just administer a 7000-volt shock, _but,_ it will most likely blow half of your worthless head to smithereens.” The students finally knew what true fear was.

“The collars will also alert you when another death has occured. If you hear a voice whisper “three students remaining”, which I doubt most of you will, don’t be alarmed. It’s just the system telling you you still have a possible chance at survival.

“Now, Thomas?” The blond boy jumped at the sound of his name, but stood at attention.

“S-Ser?”

“Would you mind putting this on?” the instructor held up a collar, the very one they had been using for demonstrations. A gasp was heard from the middle of the room; the small, black haired girl Thomas had whispered to began to cry softly. No one went to comfort her; the risk of meeting a similar fate to the unfortunate fellow at the front of the room was too high.

Thomas reached out slowly, the androgynous instructor nodding encouragingly, and, with the greatest look of fear, put the collar around his pale neck.

“Now, students,” the instructor said, as they picked up a simple, sleek, black remote, with a bright red button in the center, “Thomas here will demonstrate the collar’s power.”  

The blond fellow stood before the class, eyes fixated on the black-haired girl in the fifth row, who still sat, silent tears pouring over her eternally pink-tinted cheeks. The instructor raised the remote leisurely, a ghost of a smile briefly appearing on their sinister face, and lazily pressed the red button down. The light behind the switch glowed, blinding in the dim room, but the students didn’t dare move to cover their eyes.

The result was immediate. Thomas shook, blond hair standing on end, as 7000 volts of electricity ran through his body. The room seemed to buzz, as static filled the air. The television behind this deadly display began to become frazzled, monitors taking that typical static screen.

Then, it stopped. Thomas stood, completely still, fully unmoving. Slightly singed, he fell, quite dead before he hit the floor.The screen behind the instructor then lit up, and the words ‘ **34 STUDENTS REMAINING** ’ appeared in radiant red blocks, staying only momentarily, until they vanished as quickly as they came.

The black-haired girl cried out then, allowing herself to reach towards the fallen fellow, and the instructor took instant notice.

“Tsk, tsk, Miss… What was it again? Carolina?” they said, glaring condescendingly at the girl. She looked over and nodded cautiously in shock.

“Well, Miss Carolina, it’s quite rude to disrupt the class in such a manner. You wouldn’t want to get disciplined like Mr. Wagner here, now would you?” They smirked right there, pale eyes vaguely lighting up on his pale visage.

Miss Carolina shook her head vehemently, eyes still glistening, and she sat back down, looking miserably at her lap.

“Now that _that’s_ been taken care of…” the instructor continued their explanation, as the class sat at attention, rapt, “You will all be given packs with the common necessities: food, water, a map of your new home, a compass, and a randomly chosen weapon. They’re so random, even _I_ don’t know what they are!” They paused for a second. “Wait, no. That’s a lie. Of course I know what’s in each pack!” They laughed mirthlessly.

“I’ll be calling you up, one by one, to receive your pack and collar. You’ll then board the jet to your new home. It’s waiting outside.” They waved their hand, and an unseen door flew open, flooding the front of the room with sunlight. The students didn’t dare move, as per usual. They would all get adjusted in a moment.

The instructor picked up their clipboard, where the remaining 34 students names glared back at them in plain, black font. They put a heavy line through Thomas Wagner’s name, somewhat irked.

“First up: Mikasa Ackerman.”

A tallish girl with short black hair, and ivory skin stood up from the back row. Her expression remained composed, eyes not giving a hint of fear, as she walked down the right aisle. Around her neck, she wore a crimson scarf, an article she was never seen without. Mikasa Ackerman was handed a pack and collar by a guard, who stood by the now open door, and she was gone, disappearing out into the still-young day.

“Armin Arlert.”

A blond boy, with a bit of a petite build, stood up from the same row in which Mikasa Ackerman did, and started walking down to the door. He was trembling, but the fear was only visible in his baby-blue eyes. The rest of his face, the pointed chin, the pudgy nose, the thin mouth, gave no hints of terror. He was handed a pack and collar, and stepped out of the room.

“Marco Bodt.”

A tall guy with short, black hair and freckles stood up from the third row. He had to shake a pale hand off his own tanned one, before walking down. He grabbed a pack and collar, and walked out of the room, but not before throwing a wistful and worried glance back to the third row.

“Reiner Braun.”

A taller, quite muscled fellow with short, very light blond hair stood up. He walked down, was handed a pack and collar, and left the room.

“Sasha Braus.”

A girl with reddish-brown hair stood up, worry plaguing her frankly adorable face. She walked down, was handed a pack and collar, and left the room.

“Mina Carolina.” The instructor chuckled slightly, singsonging the tiny, black-haired girl’s name. She stood up, tugging on a pigtail, and walked down, received a pack and collar, and walked out the door. The instructor continued down the list.

“Hanna Diamant, Hitch Dreyse, Dennis Eibringer, Boris Feulner….”

One by one, students stood up, were handed a pack and collar, and left the room, all in various states of fear, and in some cases, bravery, or even defiance.

“Bertholdt Hoover.”

A lanky guy, taller than Reiner Braun, with shaggy dark hair and tanned skin,stood up, shaking, and hesitantly began walking down, trembling the whole way. With unsteady hands, he took his pack and collar, and walked out the door.

“Javion Isgrigg, Hendrine Jensen, Franz Kefka…

“Jean Kirschstein.”

A boy, with odd, tan-and-brown hair, stood up from the spot directly next to where Marco Bodt sat. His long face was gaunt, paler than usual, and his amber eyes were filled with terror. He walked down the aisle slowly, was handed a pack and collar, and went out of the room. He looked close to tears.

“Annie Leonhardt.”

A tiny girl, with blonde hair that fell over her icy blue eyes, stood up to her full height, all five feet of her, and stiffly marched to the front of the room. She gave the instructor a cold stare over her larger-than-average nose, forcibly grabbed a pack and collar, and stalked out the door.

“Krista Lenz.”

A tiny blonde girl, tinier than Annie Leonhardt, with a precious face and large blue eyes, stood up, and let go of the hand of the freckled girl beside her.

Several more were called out, including Samuel Linke-Jackson, who could easily be mistaken for Marco Bodt at a distance. They all got up and went, some scared, well, actually, most scared, but the occasional student would stand, defiant or even brave.

“Ymir Pettersson.”

The tall, freckled girl that held the hand of Krista Lenz stood up, brown eyes narrowed. Anger radiated off her, as she walked down to the front of the room. She took a pack and collar roughly, and stiffly marched out of the room.

“Marlowe Sand.”

A tall boy, with a large nose and unfortunate haircut, stood up. He looked…. Was that pride? He looked proud to stand up, walk down, grab a pack and goggles, and march out the door. The remaining students considered this quite strange.

“Connie Springer.”

A short boy, with prematurely grey hair buzzed down to his scalp, stood. His large, brown eyes were wide, frightened. He walked down shakily, was handed a pack and collar, and walked out the door, toward the waiting jet out of the door.

Not many students were left. Out of the original 35, only six remained.

“Nack Tius.”

A taller boy, with brown hair slicked back, stood up. He ambled down to the front of the room, having to step over Thomas Wagner’s body, and took a pack and collar. His generic ‘cool guy’ attitude melted right off as he walked out the door.

Two more students were called up; two students remained. They glanced at each other, briefly, but snapped their attention back to the instructor instantly.

“Eren Yeager.”

The taller of the two boys stood, brushing brown hair out of emerald green eyes, and stepped forward. He stepped over the poor, dead fellow’s corpse, grabbed a pack and collar, and walked out of the door.

“Finally,” the instructor sighed, “Millius Zermuski.”

The last remaining boy, who was quite handsome in the eyes of many, stood. He walked to the front of the room, was handed a pack and collar, and walked out of the door, toward what could only be described as imminent doom.

The instructor exhaled heavily, as the armed guard slammed the door shut. The room went back to its original dim state.

The turned around, pulled out the rolling chair located behind the desk, and sat down, resting their chin in their palm. They grinned wickedly.

“I _love_ my job…” they sighed, almost content, “Oh, and Chad?”

The heavily armed guard stood at attention, and saluted.

“Take this body out, would you? I don’t want it to make the room stink, once it starts to rot.”

“Yes, Ser.” he nodded, and began dragging the unfortunate fellow’s remains away.

The instructor sighed once again, before flipping a switch, to turn on all the cameras located in the students’ new home.

They spun around in the chair, and staring at the giant screen, which housed several large images of an island. Many of the pictures were of a forest, including the clearing, but there was also a beach, a stream, and a large field.

The instructor chuckled darkly, gazing at the monitor.

“Let the games begin.”

 


	2. Day Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been three days of playing this twisted game, and Krista is alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight so this is chapter two!!!! Hooray! This one focuses on Ymir and Krista, which is gonna be gr9. And yes, I had to give Ymir a random last name. It woulda been weird if she didn't have a last name.
> 
> Also: Updates may not be exactly weekly, as I have a tight schedule and a lot of homework being assigned here and there.
> 
> Enjoy~

**Day Three**

 

Krista was scared.

She was alone, all alone, in a forest clearing, with nothing but a small knife; the weapon she found in her backpack. She hadn't seen Ymir in a while. The taller girl had left about half an hour ago, to try and find some more food, or something.

The blonde shook in her boots, clutching her knife in one hand, and securing her backpack with the other. Every so often, she’d glance around, looking desperately for Ymir.

 Eventually, Krista sat down. She leaned against a tree on the edge of the clearing, attempting to calm herself down in any way she could. No luck.

The tiny girl looked at the blade in her hands, heavily considering just ending her existence at that moment, but never even raised the damn thing. Doing _that_ now would be pointless.

_Damn it, Krista!_ she thought, staring at the silver sliver edge grasped in her minuscule palm, _Think of Ymir! She’d die if you died, for God’s sake!_

 Much more time passed. Krista jumped at each little rustle in the woods. The first time the branches made sound, it was just the wind. She got scared out of her skin over a gust of wind.

 The second time, a squirrel jumped out. Ymir would have killed it on the spot, getting fresh food for the two of them (and giving Krista the bigger portion), but the blonde couldn't bring herself to harm the creature.

It just was too cute: puffy little tail sticking up, bright black eyes shining with the hope of finding more food, tiny little scratchy claws. Krista couldn't help letting out an “Awwww”. She tossed it a nut that had fallen from her tree, and watched the squirrel scamper away.

The third time she heard something rustle, nothing popped out. And it _certainly_ didn't sound like the wind.

“Ymir?” Krista called out nervously, and not too loud, so any unwanted… _visitors_ wouldn't come running. “Ymir, is that you?”

There was no response from the freckled girl, but there _was_ more rustling. It seemed to be getting closer, whatever it was. Krista clutched the knife tighter, turning to face the source of the sound.

The rustling got more frequent. What, or whoever was attempting to approach her was not very good at their stealth tactics. But suddenly, it stopped.

Krista could almost see whoever was standing outside of her clearing. She could see a bright red shirt between the green leaves. The owner of said shirt had stopped right in their tracks, whether out of fear or a sudden attempt of stealth; the blonde couldn't tell.

There was a shout. The owner of the red shirt moved away from where Krista sat, and deeper into the woods. From what Krista could hear, there was quite a scuffle.

The blonde nearly fell into a trance, listening to the battle. One voice, distinctly female, shouted every so often, while the other, distinctly male, grunted and breathed heavily. It sounded like the girl was winning.

The clear sound of sword hitting flesh snapped Krista out of her trance. There was a sort of squelching sound, and the deeper voiced person let out a sharp gasp. The unmistakable swish of blade-leaving-skin rang out, and then there was almost a strangled gurgling heard. It faded away pretty quickly, and then the forest was still again, with no sounds piercing the air.

“ **29 STUDENTS REMAINING.** ” the tinny, tiny voice from around Krista’s neck whispered.

“Ymir?!” Krista called out, completely terrified. The lecture given with their instructions was no match to this. The blonde stood quite still, staring at where the fight had just taken place. The rustling had returned. Whoever had just one was running, quite clearly towards Krista.

“Ymir? Ymir?!” The tiny girl’s voice went from one of hope to one of fear. This person was coming into the clearing, and fast.

“Krista!”

Ymir’s rough, low voice rang out, as the freckled girl burst into the clearing, cavalry sword covered to the hilt in blood, and face cut ever so slightly. Other than the small abrasion, she looked unhurt, albeit covered in someone else’s blood.

“That bastard…” the freckled girl muttered darkly, “Tried sneakin’ up on you. Knew you’re a small one. Thought I could trust the fucker. Can’t fuckin’ trust anyone, huh, babe?”

The blonde rushed into Ymir’s arms, ignoring the blood, and gripping her tightly.

“I’m just glad you’re safe…” Krista muttered, clutching onto the taller girl’s torso, with no intention of letting go.

“I gotcha, ‘kay babe? I’m not gonna let nothin’ hurtcha.” The freckled girl still held her sword in one hand, but continued protecting the tiny blonde, pressing a kiss to the top of her golden head.

Krista nodded into the taller girl’s chest, and they broke their embrace.

“It’s not safe to stay here.” Ymir said, in a voice as low as the high sun was not. It was still quite light out. “Stay here a second, Kris. I’ll be right back.”

The freckled girl stalked quickly into the forest, looting the dead boy for all he had, or, at least what was of worth. She cleaned her blade with a rag of his shirt, before throwing it back to the ground in disgust, where the tiny blonde stood in wait.

“Let’s go.” the merciless girl grabbed her girlfriend’s hand, and they began walking, backs to the sun, away from where the boy in red lay.

* * *

 

The sun was beginning to set. Ymir had a successful hunt, bringing back a small rabbit. The skin and cook the beast, and enjoy the flesh, savoring each greasy drop. If this were to be a last meal, in Krista’s eyes, it certainly was a good one.

“He didn't have much on him…” Ymir muttered regrettably; it had been ages since she had said a word.

Krista looked up in surprise.

“Who? The boy…?” she asked timidly. Ymir didn't seem to be in the mood to talk, and in the dim firelight, her pointed face seemed grimmer than usual.

“Yeah.” the freckled girl says sharply, staring into the flames, “Thought I could trust that fucker. We were friends, once. Lost touch, though. Can’t even remember the bastard’s name…”

Ymir sighed right then, and slouched further down. Krista was beginning to get worried.

The sun bathed everything in a deep gold, from the trees surrounding where the girls now sat, to the blonde’s already golden hair, to the blade Ymir idly moved in her long fingers, sending reflections across the ground.

Krista attempted to sidle closer over to the taller girl. The rough log they sat on made this a bit tough, but she did her best.

“That boy… He didn't _mean_ anything, did he?” she tried asking gently; a topic like this surely was sore, but she wouldn't refrain from prodding.

Ymir sighed again, and took a long moment before answering.

“No. We were just neighbours. Played in the yards as kids. Nothin’ more than that. I mean, sure, I was dead worried when the guy broke his arm in my backyard, but now, killing him wasn't much. He didn't mean anything anymore.”

She went silent again. While the taller girl watched the flames, Krista wrapped one arm under Ymir’s to hold her hand, and she rested her golden head on Ymir’s shoulder.

Krista almost couldn't hear her when she said, “....He was the first I had killed in this damn game…”

And so they sat, until the sun was almost gone, and the fire lay low. A rustling ran through the trees, wind rippling off trees and shrubbery. An animal, presumably another squirrel, scampered by the fire, and disappeared into the trees with a hiss. Krista still had her head on Ymir’s shoulder, and they didn't dare move. This, rare as it was, was a moment of peace.

A low chuckle ran through the whispering wood. Ymir looked up immediately, shaking the blonde awake and gripping her sword tightly.

She could have sworn she heard someone say “How cute.”

“Kris.” The freckled girl’s whisper was urgent, and scared. For the very first time, as far as the tiny blonde could tell, Ymir Pettersson was terrified.

“Kris get up. We need to go. Now.”

“H-huh?” Krista broke out of her slight slumber, “Ymir? What’s wrong?”

“Keep your voice down,” Ymir hissed, “We have visitors.”

The girls stood up slowly, grabbing backpacks and weaponry, and began creeping away from where the chuckle originated. Unfortunately, Ymir made the mistake of tripping, releasing her grip on the tiny blonde’s shoulder as she steadied herself.

Faster than a bolt of lightning in a hurricane, Annie Leonhardt ripped through the woods, seizing the tiny blonde, one hand covering her mouth, the other holding Krista’s knife. Annie held the tinier blonde, who kicked against her iron grip, and dragged her back to where Bertholdt Hoover and Reiner Braun stood.

“Heh…” Reiner hulked over the tiny Krista, Bertholdt even more, but it was the more muscular one who spoke.

“Better not struggle, lovely. Don’t want your pretty little neck to get slit.” He chuckled yet again, and studied the expression on Ymir’s face.

“Soooooo,” the blond boy made sure to draw the O’s out extra long, “Pettersson. Let’s make us a deal. Hand over your stuff, or uh…. Your precious Krista gets it. Whaddya say?”

Annie held the blade of the knife against Krista’s jugular. Her icy blue eyes met Ymir’s chocolate brown ones, and they seemed to say _I’d like to see you try._

The freckled girl, filled with defiance, spat at their feet.

Annie pressed the blade against the tinier blonde’s neck, causing the poor girl to let out a squeak, as the cold metal touched her skin. The icy blonde let the blade break skin, a few beads of blood appearing on Krista’s pale skin.

“Tch, tch, tch, Pettersson….” Reiner spoke again, condescending as ever, but colder, somehow. The iciness of Annie was rubbing off on him. “I thought you’d know better than that. Just throw your pack and sword on the ground, and no harm will come to your pretty little Krista.”

Bertholdt stood there, as he usually does, eyes pleading. He didn’t want to kill anyone. Poor guy was just a lamb in a lion’s body. Ymir knew him pretty well. She knew what he was thinking. _Ymir! Just put the pack down. I don’t want to hurt you._

She could never say no to Bertholdt.

Disgusted with herself, she threw her pack down.

“There.” she said, kicking it roughly towards them “Take it. Just let her go.”

She still had her sword.

Annie looked up, to where Reiner stood. He nodded sharply, and she dropped the knife, hitting the ground with a dull clang. Krista uneasily inched forward, but Ymir looked anything but ready to embrace her and get the fuck out of there. Her eyes still burned with defiant hatred. And Krista knew what she was planning.

“Ymir, NO!!” she cried, but it was too late.

Like a panther, Ymir lunged forward, sword aimed for Bertholdt’s neck. He was always the weakest, even if he was a giant.

Bertholdt fell back, making the freckled girl’s attack miss, by quite a lot. She managed to turn back in time to hear-

“Annie!”

Reiner had called out to his minuscule accomplice, who understood the command. This was _all_ planned out in advance.

Ymir managed to stop herself in time to see Annie Leonhardt dart forward, and grab sweet, precious Krista by the throat, quickly twisting her neck at a 90ﾟ angle, and letting the tiny blonde drop to the ground. It was done. Poor girl didn't even have a second to cry out.

“ **28 STUDENTS REMAINING.** ”

The tinny voice whispered into the sudden silence. It rang out, even though the sound lasted for a second, and they all stood, Ymir stunned, Annie smug, Bertholdt terrified from his spot of the ground, and Reiner, staring in disdain at the little blonde’s body, lying limply between them.

“You brought this on yourself.” Reiner said simply, shrugging. It was unclear whether he was speaking to Ymir, or the blonde’s remains.

Ymir and Bertholdt moving simultaneously, with the female stabbing downward, to where the male’s neck was seconds before.

“BASTARD!” she cried, wrenching her sword from the earth and swinging around to face him. “You _BASTARD!”_

Ymir lunged again, missing once, twice, before she managed to slice the giant’s leg. The cut wasn't too deep, nor on a vital tendon. Blood seeped through the fabric of his jeans surrounding his calf, and he fell, once again. Ymir would have stabbed, gone in for the kill, but Reiner was faster.

The blond boy whipped out a gun, one he had been hiding on his belt, to shoot Ymir first in her left leg, then in her right. It would be impossible to move, even if she used all of her upper body. Reiner immediately rushed to the side of the fallen boy, with questions of “All you all right?” and “Where did she get you?” while Annie stepped forward.

Striding leisurely over what used to be Krista, Annie stopped right at where Ymir now lay. The blonde grinned wickedly, leaning down to where the freckled girl was, stooping down to Ymir’s level.

“Tch, Pettersson…” Annie simpered, getting right up, or in this case, down, in Ymir’s face, “Sorry about your girlfriend. It’s a damn shame what happened, huh?”

Ymir made the same mistake twice: She gathered up enough blood and spittle in her mouth, and shot it directly at Annie Leonhardt’s icy blue eye.

 Annie stood then, face not making a visible reaction, but her voice held a certain type of dark humor to it.

“Well, Pettersson…. If that’s the way you want to play, then _let’s play._ ”

Five kicks to the stomach. Three kicks to the back. A kick in each arm, and two in each injured leg. Ymir saw white each time. After what seemed like forever in Hell, Annie stopped.

 “Had enough, Pettersson?”

“You…fucking..bitch...” Ymir coughed then, and could taste the iron-flavored blood pooling in her mouth. She spit toward the ground this time, and Annie finally looked satisfied.

“Reiner!” she barked, and the other blond looked up from where he still sat, binding Bertholdt’s wound, “We’re done here.”

 He nodded, before turning to the wounded boy, gently asking, “Can you stand?”

The brunet nodded, and shakily stood, leaning on Reiner for support. Annie snatched up Ymir’s pack and took out the map, looking to see when the area they stood in would kill those left in it.

“We have ten minutes.” she said simply, gathering up the remainder of the items, “Grab whatcha can, boys. Let’s get outta here.”

They packed up all the things Ymir and Krista had at their pathetic camp, including the things that were in the pack from the boy Ymir had killed.

_His name was Lukas,_ she thought weakly, _Lukas Gustafsson._

“ _Do svidaniya, vesnushki.”_ Annie figuratively spat in the freckled girl’s direction. And then, they were gone, Bertholdt limping away, using Reiner for support, and the ice-cold blonde watching out ahead, for anyone trying to attack them in their vulnerable state.

Ymir’s collar whispered to her at one point.

“You are in a kill zone.” it had said “Get out now. You are in a kill zone.”

Ymir didn't heed the warning. She couldn't if she wanted to. She didn't even want to. She had given up. Now, it was over.

But Ymir didn't care.

**27 STUDENTS REMAINING.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Check out my tumblr at little-freckled-fricker! <3 Ymir's lil backstory was fun to write, as was those really fucking satisfying deaths. Man. That was gr9. Seeya next week? Maybe?   
> <3


	3. Chapter 3

I haven't worked on this in three years and am no longer really interested in SNK, but here's the rest of the plot.

Chapter 3 is about Annie, Reiner, and Bertholt. Annie is basically saying "Rei look he's hurt, he's slowing us down, we should kill him." And Reiner's like "Fuck that." So Annie kinda cold-heartedly kills Bertholt since he's injured and slowing them down, but then Reiner kills her and runs off into the woods as her body is collected.

  
Chapter 4 was about Sasha and Connie. I didn't actually plan this one out very well, but Sasha and Connie are getting hungry because it's been like 8 days and they haven't found much food and they find a cache of it but then they explode or something.

  
Chapter 5 was Jean and Marco. They're doing whatever, and they know like deep down that one of them is going to have to die for the other to win but Jean also knows they're not going to win. Jean is there like contemplating killing himself or something and hears an explosion and oh would you look at that Marco has stepped on a mine and has died. Like, Trost style. And Jean just falls to his knees and he doesn't have a weapon or anything so he's just shocked and Mikasa finds him and takes pity and shoots him in the head to put him out of his misery.

  
Chapter 6 was the last one. Eren, Armin, Mikasa, and Reiner are all left. The main trio are surviving pretty well but Armin was vaguely injured a couple days ago. Suddenly, Reiner runs out of the woods with a spear and gets Mikasa in the stomach and she falls to the ground. Eren picks up Mikasa's gun and shoots Reiner and he dies. As Mikasa is succumbing to her wounds, Eren and Armin realize it's just the two of them left. Armin's like "kill me I'm useless and hurt" and Eren's like "fuck that, kill me so you can actually live and stuff" but Armin can't bring himself to kill his best friend, y'know? So Eren's like "Hey, it'll be okay, just look away, it's fine" and he shoots himself. And then Armin's the only one left. So a helicopter comes down and brings Armin away from the arena or whatever, now with horrible PTSD.

And then it ends.

So yeah, that's all that I had of this. Sorry I never finished it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's the end of that. i'm gonna go back to oneshots and no major character death for the most part.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first published fic. Feedback will be appreciated <3 I can be found on tumblr as little-freckled-fricker.


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